


The Hendersons at Home

by lalalalalawhy



Category: The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:31:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4880455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalalalalawhy/pseuds/lalalalalawhy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just scenes from the first year of marriage between a werewolf and a vampire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hendersons at Home

_“After all, I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.” ― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea_

_Art by the amazing and talented[Mansion](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mansion)._

It was a windless night; nothing disturbed them. Dave, a particularly large man, had one foot resting on the ground and was using it to gently nudge the hammock back and forth, rocking them as though they were in a small rowboat on a calm sea.

Dave reached a hand up to stroke Donna’s hair, but hesitated. She was the picture of relaxation, her blood-red lips were parted slightly to reveal adorable little fangs. He didn’t want to disturb her, but couldn’t resist tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. Donna’s eyelashes fluttered across her pale cheeks as she opened her eyes to glance up at him. She wrinkled her nose in his direction in mock annoyance, and a genuine smile played at her lips. He leaned down to kiss the crown of her head, and strands of her hair tangled in his beard.

Brushing them free provided the perfect opportunity to begin stroking Donna’s hair as he settled back into the hammock. Dave sighed contentedly. Donna had been his wife for a year, and he honestly could not believe his luck.

*****

“DAVE! Why in the world is it so hot?” Donna had just woken up and had wandered into the kitchen, only to find that there was no respite from the heat. “I’m sweltering! I’m sweating! I don’t think vampires are supposed to sweat!”

“Vampires do not sweat?” Dave asked. He stood before the stove, warming up the cast iron skillet. Donna and Dave had been married a month ago, on the first day of June. This was the first the topic of sweating had really come up.

“No! Or, well, I don’t. Usually.” Donna ran a hand across her distinctly damp brow.

“I have good news for you,” Dave said, sweating prodigiously. “Werewolves do sweat. We sweat a lot.”

“Dave, darling, was that sarcasm?” Donna crossed the kitchen and wrapped her arms around Dave’s neck. She buried her face against his collarbone. “You’re lucky I like the way you smell,” she said, inhaling deeply. “But can you please check on the air conditioning?”

“Before or after bacon?” he asked, gesturing toward the skillet.

“Oh! Um,” Donna chewed on her lip for just a second. “After.”

Just because hemoglobin was her primary source of nutrition didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the finer things in life. Speaking of…

“Dave? Is there any coffee?”

“Yes dear. Check the ice box. I began some cold-brew coffee twelve hours ago, so it should be ready to drink now. Would you like some chicken with your breakfast?”

“Oh Dave, you shouldn’t have,” Donna said, pouring two glasses of iced coffee.

“It is too late. I already did.” Dave opened up the pantry door. The chicken he had caught earlier that day had lain some eggs. He set the eggs aside and, in one swift motion, plucked out a handful of feathers from the chicken’s neck-region. To most, perhaps, it wouldn’t seem like a very romantic gesture, but Donna knew better. He knew how little she liked feathers in her fangs.

Dave presented the squawking bird to his wife with a flourish, as though he were presenting her with a beautiful bouquet. “A little something to go with your coffee,” he said, and turned back to the stove as she sunk her teeth into the bird.

By the time he turned around again with a skillet full of sizzling bacon and eggs, Donna had discarded the chicken’s dry body and was working on pinning her hair up. It was frizzing something awful in the heat.

“Breakfast is served,” he said, setting the skillet down on the table.

She gazed at her husband. What a man, she thought, even if he was technically only a man part-time.

“Then we figure out the air conditioning,” she said. “Non-negotiable.”

“I would not dream of trying to negotiate with you,” he said, kindly. “I find myself consistently enthralled by you. I do not need to feel what the real thing feels like.”

*****

Donna threw the tent poles down in a pile with a cry of frustration. The first chill of autumn was in the air, and it was raining. Well, it was misting. But it was misting hard. Everything was soggy, and nothing was working right, from the stakes (metal: she had made sure of it before they procured the tent) to the poles to the damp canvas itself. Why had she agreed to go camping anyway?

She stalked off to lean up against their station wagon, her arms crossed. They had specifically chosen a rainy weekend to celebrate their four-month anniversary so she would be able to be outdoors in the daytime, now she was regretting it. She hadn’t bargained on how cranky the rain would make her. Did the rain really have to be so… so wet? A cold drop ran down her neck and she pulled the collar of her rain slicker closer.

Dave was the one who was at home outdoors. He spent several nights a month wandering the woods just outside the suburbs, doing whatever werewolves do when they’re not spending time with their wives or studying up for the police academy. Hunting deer, maybe?

She looked over at Dave, who had begun to pick through her pile of tent poles and accessories. She knew he wasn’t trying to flex his shoulders like that, but she felt flustered all the same. He stood up, reaching his arms above his head to connect the last piece of the collapsable pole. She tried to pay attention to the construction of the tent, but both his flannel shirt and his undershirt had come untucked from his dungarees and she could see flashes of his hairy skin beneath.

He was probably doing nothing but sit ups when he was on his monthly jaunts. That had to be it.

How could something be sexy and infuriating at the same time?

Donna licked her lips, absently. Dave’s hands, large but nimble, made short work of the infuriating tent. He unzipped the front door and gestured, inviting her inside.

Somehow, miraculously, it was dry inside the tent. As she untied her shoes and scooted inside, Dave handed her the sleeping bags, which were also dry.

Dave sat down inside and began to untie his shoes. With two people inside it the tent suddenly seemed very small. “We must get out of our wet clothing as quickly as possible,” he said. “We would not want to catch a chill.”

She didn’t point out that vampires don’t regularly catch chills. She also didn’t point out that werewolves don’t either. A thought struck her as she was unbuttoning her shirt as quickly as possible so she could help Dave shrug out of his wet flannel. She nestled a hand in his chest hair and felt his heartbeat speed up.

This is why she agreed to go camping.

*****

Donna pulled out her house keys and fit them into the front door lock. She rolled her eyes as the deadbolt stuck; it always seemed to do that when she was late getting home.

“Honey, do we have any WD-40? I don’t know if it’ll help, but…” her words trailed off as she surveyed the room. It was a scene of chaos.

Her entire living room was in disarray: couch cushions strewn across the floor, some ripped open with the stuffing half pulled out, pages from torn magazines crumpled into balls, individual ballpoint pens taken apart, tiny springs and ink cartridges littering the floor. In the middle of it all sat her husband, his knees drawn up to his chest, staring at her with big, baleful eyes.

“Dave!” she cried, running over to him and kneeling to look into his eyes. She put a hand on his shoulder. “What happened? Has there been a break-in? Did you call the police?” her voice dropped. “Did you kill anybody? Do we need to hide any bodies? I’ll go get the trash bags.” She moved to get up, but Dave moved to gently grip her forearm.

Dave stared at her for a few moments longer before finally shaking his head. He looked like he was trying to get water out of his ears.

“I am sorry,” he said, looking for all the world like a guilty puppy. “I am so sorry. But you were gone for so long.”

“Sweetie, I told you I would be at Book Club all afternoon...?” Come to think of it, had she actually told him? She couldn’t remember actually saying it, but it was definitely written on the calendar in the kitchen, next to the phone. Probably. She wrote almost everything down there. Surely he must have seen… she looked around. It was clear he had not seen that note.

“I would have called the police,” he said, looking at his hands and rocking back and forth a little bit, “but it is very near the full moon. They do not know I am a werewolf, and I did not want them to know. I did not know if I would have been able to stay human.”

“Oh, Sweetie,” Donna said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Of course he hadn’t gone to the police. He was graduating from the academy next week, and even though she knew his werewolf nature would make him the force’s greatest asset, humans were not always as understanding.

“I know you are able to take care of yourself,” he said, “and I wished to respect your boundaries, so I did not go out looking for you.” He looked around, shame spreading once more on his face as he took in the scene.

“I just… I got worried,” he finished lamely.

“Sweetie pie,” Donna said, taking his hand. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. I’m a little flattered, really. Come and lay down with me. We’ll clean up this mess in the morning.”

When they had lain down, Donna rolled over to look at Dave. His eyes were still wider than usual, and he was staring at the ceiling as though he was reading something there that confused him.

“Dave darling, listen to me.”

Dave turned his head to meet her eyes.

“No matter what, I will always come back to you. I know it might take a while for you to trust me on that one. But I will always come back to you.”

“I know,” he said.

“I will always come back to you,” she said again, laying her hand over his heart. His eyes softened, and the barest hint of a smile played at his lips.

“I know,” he said again, and this time it almost sounded like he believed it.

*****

Donna lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling. It was too early in the morning to be called late at night and too late at night to be early in the morning, even for a vampire.

She was awake. It wasn’t exactly a problem, as vampires didn’t technically need much sleep. It was still tiresome.

She could tell from his breathing that Dave wasn’t asleep either.

“Dave?” she said softly.

“Yes?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Do you wish me to be honest at this time?” he asked.

“Of course!” she said, rolling over to prop herself up on one elbow.

“I am thinking about how much I would like some cake,” Dave said.

“Oooh,” Donna said. “What kind?”

“You know that I am partial to German chocolate,” Dave said, “But it is very nearly Christmas, and I find I am craving a fruitcake.”

“Huh,” Donna said, rolling back over to think. “You know… I think… Hm.”

Surely it wasn’t still good, she thought. Sadie had given it to her, what, three years ago? But, knowing Sadie, it was probably more booze than cake.

No, scratch that. It was definitely more booze than cake.

“Well,” she said. “I have two questions for you. First question: are you feeling adventurous?”

“It is that time of night,” Dave said. Donna paused. Did he mean… no. Dave was probably the most straight-forward man in the world, in his own way. If he meant it like that he would probably say something different. Probably.

“Great. Second question: would you mind if it is less a cake and more a delivery vehicle for hard liquor with possibly some fruit and flour mixed in?”

Dave drank a beer from time to time after he got off his shift, but she had never known him to delve into the harder stuff.

“I am willing to try it,” he said.

“Okay!” Donna said, sitting up. “Let’s go find some fruitcake!”

They didn’t bother to get dressed. Donna wandered into the kitchen in her camisole, underwear, and socks. Her skin prickled with goosebumps. Vampires didn’t get cold easily, but it was December, after all. Dave was never cold, of course: he ran like a furnace. Wandering the house in the dead of night in the dead of winter in nothing but his socks and boxers didn’t phase him in the least.

As Donna reached up to check a high shelf, she felt warm Dave’s arms wrap around her from behind. “You are chilled,” he said, burying his face at the nape of her neck.

“A little,” she admitted, one hand patting the shelf exploratorily. Vampires don't catch chills, but that didn't mean that she couldn't get cold.

There was a slight crinkle of plastic. “Aha!” Donna cried, pulling out the fruitcake. “I can’t promise it will still be good. I can’t promise you’ll like it. But I can promise it will have plenty of alcohol.”

She untied the plastic bag and the pungent smell of brandy, rum, and raisins wafted from it. She held it up for Dave, who had the much better nose.

“It smells like a particularly alcoholic fruitcake,” he said.

“As advertised,” she said, in her best impression of Sadie Doyle. She resisted the urge to raise the cake in an imaginary toast. Though they’d been married for six months, Dave still hadn’t met her best friend or her charming husband. She was sure everyone would get along smashingly, but it could be hard to lure the Doyles to the less luxurious parts of the city.

She made a mental note to restock her liquor cabinet and write an invitation to the Doyles to join them for drinks. That ought to do it.

Still in Dave’s warm, sleepy embrace, she walked over to the kitchen counter and got out a bread knife. She sliced two large pieces of fruitcake, and allowed them to warm up (briefly! she suspected the cake was more flammable than usual) in the toaster oven. Dave had finally let go to retrieve two dessert plates.

She raised her slice in the air and said, “A toast! Here’s to us. These last months have been some of the happiest of my life.”

Dave, who had initially snickered slightly at her pun, looked at her solemnly. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I would bring you the moon, if you so desired.”

“Dave Henderson, you’re a big softie,” Donna said, affectionately. “Come over here and take your wife to bed.”

Dave shoved the whole piece of fruitcake in his mouth, suppressed a coughing fit as the alcohol vaporized against his tongue, and crossed the kitchen to sweep his wife off her feet.

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of the Super Blood Moon, have some domestic Donna and Dave! All drawn from the Established Relationship AUs post from [sailingonstardust](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sailingonstardust/), except for the hammock, which comes from [here](http://brainboxy.tumblr.com/post/124429320235/hi-friends-just-here-to-remind-you-not-to-imagine).


End file.
